Early summer again
when beauty is born,
birds are in love
and the lark sings at dawn.
Skies are in fashion
dressed in blue satin
instead of the grey
of a February day.
Once more I wander
in a beautiful garden
amid pretty rosebuds
of delicate pink...
and flowers of Holland
those tulips in bloom
are waving goodbye to
the breezes of spring.
I silently offer
a fervent prayer
as fragrance of heaven
touches my heart;
there is no place on earth
like a beautiful garden...
each individual aspect
is God's work of art.
There can be no other occupation like gardening in which, if you were to creep up behind someone at their work, you would find them smiling.
~Mirabel Osler
How gentle you are as you sit there strumming softly,
Your mind races as it strives for perfection.
Love of music is painted in bright colors on your face,
You are bathed in music's light, as you appreciate its grace.
How guileless is your voice as you look at me and sing,
It dances-now with gay abandon, now timid as a dove.
How swift yet sure your fingers are, loyal to your tune,
As they seek the right direction, making music true to you.
This gentleness of yours tugged at my heart, clothed me in pain,
For I saw your sensitivity and how it moved me so.
Then I longed to know what brought you home unto the Lord one day,
And I was filled with many questions, with wandering thoughts at play.
Oh when you look at me and sing, how deep and misty are your eyes,
Then I fight to understand what lies behind their shining blue.
The softness of your voice, and the sweetness of your manner,
Are so much a part of you, there is no one without the other.
How close I am to you because our thoughts are so alike,
And I marvel at our feelings, so very similar sometimes.
I dread the day you leave me with the music that you bring,
Though I will still remember you, and for us both I'll sing.
"Autumn is really the best of the seasons; and I'm not sure that old age isn't the best part of life. But of course, like autumn, it doesn't last."
~C.S. Lewis, "Letters of C. S. Lewis [1966] "27 October 1963""
************************* Word Scramble Fun: Unscramble the following word. The first letter is given as a hint. The answer will be revealed tomorrow.
It is six o'clock in the dew-soaked morning. Everything is still and cloaked in soft gray. Soundlessly, around the bend he comes...
He strides easily by the side of the road, Hugging the shade, blending into the shadows. A speck drifting on the silent wind.
Three hours later, the crowded day begins. He sits in deep concentration with mind fixed On ideas taking shape within his head.
At the meeting, he is intently motionless. An alert visionary not seeming to see, but Thinking, searching for answers always.
Now, profound solutions are reached. Intricate thoughts born of careful planning, High goals entering the range of perfection.
Finally, it's the end of the hurried day. He is heading home, satisfied yet anticipating.
There is just one more thing left to do...
Waves of color are flooding the sky. Nature is losing her robust form. In the distance there goes a figure, purposeful and steady, A runner moving towards the setting sun...
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